


Somehow Hoping

by Auty_Ren



Series: Waiting Up [7]
Category: Star Wars, Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Anal Play, Biting, Doggy Style, Exhibitionism, F/M, Fingering, Hair Pulling, Implications of death, Implied Age Gap, Mando is an asshole but we love him anyway, Manhandling, Oral Sex, Pet Names, Robbery, Rough Sex, Sensory Deprivation, Smut, Spanking, canocial type injury/violence, dom/sub elements, spitting, use and mention of blasters (guns)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:46:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29139492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auty_Ren/pseuds/Auty_Ren
Summary: Mando could be full of surprises sometimes. Lots of surprises that left your head spinning and your heart aching for something you knew you could never have.But then sometimes? It could be really, really sweet.Until you don't want him to be.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You, The Mandalorian & Reader, The Mandalorian & You, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Reader, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/You
Series: Waiting Up [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1834378
Comments: 15
Kudos: 131





	Somehow Hoping

**Author's Note:**

> I would heavily advise that if you do not like to read about any sort of violence, you skip the last little section of this fic. Nothing graphic by any means, but a blaster is involved and the reader finally gets to use some of those skills Mando has been teaching her. Just in case I left a little note before that particular scene in case you want to skip it. Enjoy babes.
> 
> Come say hi on my Tumblr: Auty-ren

You could really hate Mando sometimes.

The cocky bastard knew how to push every single one of your buttons and he made it his life’s mission to piss you off. 

He could say something to you, commenting on how it had taken you all day to reassemble the holo puck you found in a junk shop on Nevarro. You could hear the taunt in his voice, his pause to wait and see what you’d say back never went unnoticed. But when you didn’t engage, just kept with your task and ignoring him even when he shadowed your work; standing over you as you sat on the soft ground just a few feet from the ramp of the Razor Crest.

You looked up at him, ignoring how tense he seemed with his helmet cock-eyed and staring you down; gave him your sweetest smile and asked him to move.

“You’re blocking my light.”

Just teasing, seemingly innocent if you thought about it. A little playful dance between the two of you, light touches, and pointed words thrown across the room that leave your heart in a flurry until he grounds you. Until you’re alone and he pushes into you so hard and deep, praising every sound that passes through your lips; whispering prayers into the crook of your neck until it drowns out the mechanic hum that fills the belly of his ship. 

You knew better than to think anything Mando did was innocent.

His life was a calculated montage, he never did or said anything before considering every possible outcome. You knew that deep down, behind that wall of shining armor, he was enjoying every bit of this little game.

He enjoyed every huff, every glare, every curse word you retaliated in his direction.

Part of you kinda liked it too, seeing him try so hard to gauge a reaction from you. In the barest sense, even a glance of side-eye was considered a victory from him; something that made his chest puff out with his arms crossed over his chest.

But two could play that game, and you were always determined to give Mando a run for his money.

He spent all day looking for a bounty.

The Razor Crest was parked on the edge of a rocky cliff, the city of his interest sat on the same shoreline you were. The entirety of it was encased behind a stone wall that reached so high, you could only see the tops of a few remaining buildings. There was only one way in, a man-made path carved out of the rocky landscape that leads to a bridge; swarms of people shuffling in and out as the road bottlenecked. The seawater surrounding it was dark, almost black as it beat against the bridge guarding the entrance. A stark contrast to the dusty, tan brick that made up the city. Miles of rolling hills separated you, made up of rock and covered in a layer of thin, coarse sand.

Didn’t sound like a lot of fun.

It was beautiful while you waited for him, ocean waves thick and warm like tar sparkling with the afternoon sun, dancing in faint colors as the evening set up behind you and the Crest. The air was crisp, salty like all sea air but cold and sharp against your lungs.

It was fun to watch the water, to lay lazily on the descended ramp and watch the clouds drift by; memorizing the way the water gleamed like a thousand suns as dusk finally set. It's nearly dark before Mando comes back, an aggravated bounty in tow that still tries to bargain freedom. Mando doesn't even acknowledge you at first, dragging his quarry up to the carbonite and not offering you a second glance. You tidy things up for departure, ignoring the sting you felt in the pit of your stomach and Mando’s…. attitude?

If that's what you could call it.

He was irritated, you could tell from how harshly he pushed the buttons as he started the take-off. He was simmering, teetering on the edge of boiling over as he relaxed back in his seat with a huff. You took your seat in the co-pilot's chair, setting the bag you had brought up with you to the side and watching Mando plot a course on the navigation system.

There was nothing for a while once you had hit hyperspace, the cockpit was only filled with the monotonous drone of subspace and sometimes the occasional clink of the tools in your lap.

You held the broken ‘radio’ in one hand, desperately trying to pry it open with one of the wrenches you found at the bottom of one of Mando’s toolboxes. You had spent all day, on and off, trying to get the stupid thing to work; just as you had been doing since you found it weeks ago.

You had taken it apart one too many times, reassembling it in hopes you had finally put it together correctly. But no matter how hard you pushed, the pieces of this puzzle never seemed to fit. Mando commented before on how you should just throw it away, that time spent on it was wasted energy but, you'd like to think it was more than that.

“Got your hands full?”

Mando’s head barely turned to look at you, the glint on his visor shifting in the dim light of the cockpit.

“Completely under control.” Your words were muffled, choked out around the wrench you had temporarily been holding in your teeth, thinking your hands would get a better grip.

You took the tool from your mouth, pushing some of the hair that had fallen in your face away and giving him your fakest smile.

“Promise.”

He huffed a little, turning in his seat to face you better, watching you continually struggle as you sat slouched in the co-pilot’s chair.

“I think you're enjoying that too much.”

You jumped when the outer wall you had been prying at snapped back, falling out of your grip and nearly pinching your finger.

“Maybe, just a little.” You sighed, turning the box in your hands to look for another way in. “I always liked to work with my hands.”

He didn't respond, not that you expected him to but sometimes conversations with Mando could be unexpected. Although he didn't say anything it felt like he did, like he wanted something from you but you couldn't pin down exactly what it was. So you did what you always did when you got nervous and just talked.

“My dad used to always tease me about it,” you could feel your face get hot, the words tumbling out of your mouth before you could catch them; some unknown reason making you embarrassed to admit such a small detail.

“He uh-” 

Mando probably didn't care, why would he? It's not like he asked you and deep down part of you wished he'd just shut you up. Maybe he could shout, or scream, or say something rude that put you back into that quiet shell you lived in sometimes.

But Mando was never like that, and you just kept going.

“He wanted me to fly, instead, like he did.”

It got quiet, the kinda quiet that made you want to do anything to make it stop, that hung in the air heavy and left your skin crawling.

You fiddle with the ‘radio’ in your lap, just turning it over in an attempt to be busy and distract from the hole you dug for yourself.

“You’ve never told me about your parents.”

Your eyes flicker up to find Mando watching you, still relaxed in his seat but solely trained on your; his visor dipping briefly when you tapped your finger against the box in your lap.

“You never asked me.”

It wasn't meant to sting or to accuse Mando, he didn't owe you a conversation or even courtesy really, but it certainly felt that way; like a relief finally washing over you.

“In my experience, it's better to keep to yourself and just do the work.”

Mando sits up at your remark, cocking his helmet to the side as he leans his weight on his arm. You turn your face to look out the window in front of you, watching the clouded view of space pass you by.

“Some people don’t like it if you ask questions.”

You mumble the words through the palm of your hand, leaning against it and looking to the window for an escape as if it was going to be the thing to save either of you.

“I like when you ask questions.”

Something about the way he spoke felt imagined as if you concocted the words in your head and Mando had never actually said them.

You blink a few times, glancing over to see that he was still watching you; realizing you had, in fact, not dreamt up his sentiment. All you could offer was a sad smile, your face feeling heavy at the memories of old bosses, of times and places you never dared to miss.

“You would be the first.”

Mando grabs your hand before you can register what’s happening, his touch delicate on your wrist as he pulls you closer to him. The tools in your lap are forgotten, clanging against the floor when he guides you to stand, the hand not on your wrist falling to hold your hip. You settle against his lap, his thighs spread to support you, and your knees getting pinched between his legs and the chair.

“You're not gonna cry anymore are you?” He says with a tilt of his helmet, something playful underlining his tone.

“I wasn't crying.” You scoffed, resisting the urge to cross your arms over your chest.

“You were about to.” He counters, his hands settling on your legs, squeezing the tops of your thighs absentmindedly.

“People can be cruel Mando.” You sighed, picking at the bottom of your tunic. “I figured you would know that.”

His hands were still touching you, molding your skin into his palms and he drug his hands up until they settled on the dip of our hips.

“You could be cruel.”

His voice was flat, nothing teasing or rude lying beneath the surface. Just a fact, something Mando saw in you.

“I'm not-” You almost stand up at the implication, your eyebrows furrowing into a scowl you hope he felt behind layers of armor. “I'm not cruel.”

“But you could be,” He offered, squeezing your sides. “And you choose not to.”

Mando had never spoken like this before, through all the conversations you shared it rarely was ever about the two of you. You figured Mando just preferred when things were simpler, and talking sometimes complicated things.

“Well, I try.” 

You tried to look anywhere but him, he was just too close. You could smell the soap he used to wash his suit, something sweet and warm that you found could only be described as him. Your reflection was like a mirror in the beskar he wore, face distorted but blinking right back at you when you searched for an escape. His gloved hands ran up your side now, dipping under the fabric of your shirt and running along your back.

“But it's not like being a good person gets you much, anyway.”

You could barely breathe, feeling too hot and uncomfortable under his attention. Your bodies pressed heavily together that, even through all the layers you wore, felt too intimate.

“Close your eyes.”

Your lashes flutter hard against your cheeks from how tight your eyes shut. You didn't have to know why, Mando had asked the same thing from you before and you weren't at all surprised to hear the release of his helmet.

You were a little surprised to feel it sliding over your face.  
Your hands cupped Mando’s as he fixed the helmet to sit straight, giving the chin a flick once it had sealed over your head. The inside was snug, padding heavy against your brow and pinning completely around your skull. It smelt like metal, tangy and familiar in a way you couldn't quite place.

You open your eyes to darkness, blindness that left you fumbling with the edges of the helmet, your fingers running over the visor you knew should be your window out.

“I turned off the vision, you won't see anything unless you take it off.”

Mando took your hands in his, placing them back at your sides to stop your curiosity.

It was an understanding, he didn't need to say it but he knew you figured it out.

“Okay.”

Your voice almost echoes, too close to your ears and probably ridiculous by the time it filters through the modulator in his helmet. 

He unties the front of your tunic, slowly dragging the fabric off your shoulders until it fell and landed at his feet. You feel chill bumps running across your skin, tickling down your spine with every inch of you exposed. The bumps on your arms melt away with the drag of his hand, bare and calloused as he explores, finding your chest and cupping you with a rough grip.

You gasp, nearly whimpering when he rolls your nipple between his two fingers; laughing at how heavy you panted through his helmet.

You can feel everything: every drag of his skin against yours, every twitch of his thigh underneath yours, every grind of his hips into you. It feels like he's everywhere at once, setting your nerves on fire with just the barest touch to your body. You can't stop the shout that leaves your lips when he mouths at your breasts, swirling his tongue over your peaked nipple until he swallows it whole.

Your hands find his shoulders, inching their way up until you grab him by the hair, running your fingers through his curls with an arch of your back.

He pulls off you with a wet pop, his fingers immediately moving to pinch the tender flesh while his mouth moves to your other breast.

You are absolutely aching by the time he's done with your chest, not satisfied until he licks, nips, and sucks every dip and curve he can reach.

It’s haste to undress this way, your fingers fumbling behind his as he rips enough away that you're bare to him; the cool air tickling your lips when he spreads you with his fingers. 

He grins something awful when you comment on how he keeps ruining your clothes, huffing a laugh into your neck as he maneuvers your leg over the arm of the chair for better access.

If you had kept count, it was probably the fifth article of clothing he had ripped, or cut, because he was impatient. But no matter how hard you teased him, he considered it a badge of honor; something that made his cock throb when he thought about how wrecked he left you.

“I'll buy you more, sweet girl.”

He pressed the tip of his cock inside of you, guiding your hips until you took every inch of him.

“An entire wardrobe picked just for me.”

Your thighs were trembling, burning, and stretching as you bounced up and down on his lap, controlled entirely by the death grip he kept on your hips. The angle was heavenly, reaching deep and hitting that sweet spot that Mando was an expert at finding. You nearly sobbed as he stilled you to sit in his lap, his cock grinding almost painfully against your walls.

His finger played with your clit, running circles around the swollen nub that had you clenching around him. He started to move you again, your body nearly limp in his arms and completely dependent upon his mercy. 

He took it easy, moving your hips in time with slow, long thrusts until you felt every twitch of his cock inside of you.

You couldn't sit up straight, your head buried into his shoulder and your nails digging into his arms to ground yourself. Your moans were intoxicating in Mando’s ear, breathy and sweet as he drew tight circles on your clit; growling in your ear about how good you were for him.

“Such a good girl.”

You feel the pressure snap at the bottom of your belly, rippling through your cunt in slow, burning waves that have you soaking Mando’s lap. You feel like you're crying, completely drunk in the way he still held you, drawing out each second of pleasure tenfold with a twist of his wrist.

He snaps his hips into you a few more times, his nails digging crescent-shaped marks into your skin as he groans into your neck.

You can feel him drip down your lips, thick and warm and seeping out your still stuffed cunt. You roll your ankle, trying to find some feeling in your leg that was still slung over the arm of his seat; flexing against the pinpricks in the soles of your feet until he moves it into his lap again, his cock slipping from your cunt with a shamefully wet sound.

He pats your thigh, giving one final squeeze before he says anything.

“I think you're a good person.”

-

You have no idea how long it's been when Mando wakes you.

Your eyes are still heavy and itch in the corners with sleep that you wish you could still be having. It's in the early morning of this planet, the sun barely covering anything when you first step out of the warm confines of the Razor Crest.

It's too cold to be taking a hike, or following a grumpy Bounty Hunter to work. 

It was probably just exhaustion, that annoying feeling that picked at the corner of your brain every time you had to process anything that was happening. Mando didn't seem to notice or just let you be, so you just keep smart comments to yourself, paying enough attention to follow Mando.

You pull the hood of your poncho tighter over your head, cold air stinging at your cheeks and nose until you bury them under your collar.

You are not dressed for such weather, and it was starting to piss you off.

Mando grunts when you comment how tired you are, probably sounding a bit whiny when you mentioned how fucked up both of your sleep cycles are.

“Just a little while longer.”

He offers over his shoulder, not at all holding the bite you expected him to have.

Now you just felt shitty.

You still can't remember if Mando had given an indication of where you'd be going, or why he needed you to tag along.

“So where are we going now?”

It's slippery as you make your way down the hillside, most of it covered in big, smooth, dark-colored rocks that were sometimes bigger than Mando.

The entire planet was covered in them, instead of rolling waves of grass like most, the entire landscape was covered in rock. A lot of them were tiny, dusty, an almost grain-like covering with bigger rocks thrown in the mix. The gravel was hard to walk on, unsteady and cutting into the soles of your boot.

Mando held out his hand to help you down the rest of the hill you crossed, letting you brace yourself on his arm as you slid down to be level with him.

“I thought you weren’t gonna ask questions?”

Mando held onto your fingers for a second longer than necessary, just a small thing but you noticed it nonetheless.

“I thought you liked it when I asked questions?” 

You grin at him, crossing your arms over your chest as you arched your brow at him. He just shook his head, turning to continue walking in the direction he was leading you.

“Only sometimes.”

The sun started to shine on your faces, peeking out over the horizon and bathing the two of you in warm light. You watched the colors in the rocks beneath your feet shine, twisting and changing under the new light. Your breath puffs out in front of your face, fogging in the cold air until it disappears a second later. It was like ice covered the planet, sometimes crunching under your feet but suspended in the air; keeping you shivering in the thin layer you wore. 

Mando suddenly stopped, your mind elsewhere when you nearly ran into his back before you could catch yourself. 

He's looking at an opening in the hillside, warmth, and steam wafting through a human-sized hole carved among the rock. It was lined in patterns, organized, and cemented by size as rocks circled the opening, an obviously man-made landmark.

Mando doesn't hesitate to keep walking, holding his hand out again for you to take. 

It does take a bit of convincing yourself to follow Mando in the dark, considering the only light in the cave was the one attached to his helmet. You can feel the difference inside, heat seeping through the walls, and lining the path carved out in front of you. It took no time for you to feel overdressed, every step further into the cave making you wish you could shed another layer or even breathe a hint of fresh air.

The cave hummed under your footsteps, almost alive as a low sound buzzed around you, growing louder with a faint light that finally cut through the darkness. You followed closely behind Mando, holding onto his elbow as you walked closer. It eventually gathers at the edge of another opening, dull blue light casting over your face as you leaned your head inside.

The ceiling of the cave stood well above your head, opening up into a room that felt like it had been carved out of the earth. Rocks shimmering in blues and purples lay at your feet, lined around pools that had been cut into the ground with warm blue water filling them to the brim.

It looked a lot like it did outside but it was warm, hot even with more steam leaking out of holes in the ground, the water almost boiling in a few of the pools. The light was also different, the walls were covered in a cloud of blue dust that shone without any other source; it stains your fingertips as you run them along with the stone, the pads of your thumb and forefinger glowing with the same blue color.

“Where the hell did you learn about this place?”

You watch Mando walk further into the cave, looking up to the ceiling with the same awe you felt.

“Heard some locals talking about it,” He shrugs, turning to look at you. “Thought it would be nice to check out.”

You find your way in the center of the cave, the ceiling dripping water in the largest pool you've found yet. It started shallow, barely enough water to wade in that beat against dark color gravel like sea waves; but you could see it dip just a few feet from that until the ground disappeared under the clear water.

“You gonna get in?”

Mando nodded to the pool, a hand on his hip as he came to stand beside you.

“In the water?”

You felt kinda dumb to say it, blinking up at Mando with your brow furrowed, no doubt he was grinning at you under his helmet.

“That's why we're here.”

Your teeth dig at your bottom lip, rolling it back and forth until you could taste copper on your tongue.

“Don't act shy now.”

Mando leans against one of the bigger rocks in the cave, crossing his arms over his chest and cocking his helmet to the side.

“I'm not shy.”

You glare at him as best you could, hating the smug attitude that started rolling off of him.

You strip down until you're bare as the day you were born, leaving your clothes piled on the step that led down to the water. No matter how badly you wanted to, you wouldn't turn to face Mando. You just kept your focus on the water as it tickled your toes, finally deciding to take the first few steps into the pool. He watched every move you made, his gaze burning holes through the back of your head.

Or more accurately your backside.

The water stings, hot and peppering your skin in warmth as you sink further and further into it until you finally dunk your head the rest of the way, coming up a few seconds later and dipping your head back into the warm water.

“You gonna leave me in here by myself?”

It was a taunt, making sure to bat your eyes up at him with just enough pout to get under his skin.

He didn't move or say anything, at first you were afraid he was just going to ignore you and leave you to play in the water alone like a child.

“You need company?”

He sat up a little straighter now, not so relaxed against his rock, and his hands fisted at his sides. His voice dropped a little lower, and you bit the insides of your cheek again to keep from grinning.

You had definitely gotten under his skin.  
His visor followed your every move, dipping as you puffed your chest out, your nipples barely peeking up above the surface of the water.

“Don't necessarily need it but,” You turned your back to him and looked over your shoulder, shrugging as if you didn't care what he did. “I'd like some.”

“Close your eyes.”

You don't think you had ever heard Mando moving that fast, the removal of fabric and the familiar clink of his armor rushed as he undressed. Before you know it, you can feel the water ripple around you, tiny waves forming with his movements in the water. 

He comes up behind you, both of you standing chest-deep in the water. Nothing but the faint drip of water can be heard, droplets falling from the ceiling and splashing in little waves around you.

“Can I open my eyes now?”

He hummed for a minute in the back of his throat, tapping along your shoulder and down the length of your arm.

“No.”

He wraps an arm around your front, pulling you closer to him with his hand reaching up to cup your tit.

“Why not?”

You try to be genuine, to not sound like some bratty kid who was tired of not getting their way. But somehow Mando always did manage to bring out the worst in you.

“Because I said so.”

Your groan is more like a whine, your hand coming up to grab at his wrist when he squeezes your nipples, hard.

“Get plenty of practice in,” His breath is hot against your ear, his fingers tweaking your bud until it’s hard and peaked. “Learn to control your impulses.”

“So I can learn to fumble around?” You spit at him, trying not to turn to mush under his touch.

“Don't worry,” He chuckles something wicked against your neck. “I see enough for the both of us.”

“You're always so mean to me.”

You can barely say the words, breath caught in your throat until you force it out with a sigh. Your eyes drifting closed with his kiss to your shoulder, his arm pulling your back to press firmly against his chest, and his mouth trailing to your neck where he buries his nose in your hair.

“I'm never mean to you.”

You can feel his grin against your skin, splitting and dark as his hand comes up to cup your jaw, keeping your squirming to a minimum so he can lap his tongue over the delicate spot on your neck.

“What if I wanted you to be?”

He's quiet, completely stalled with his arm around your midriff and his hand still holding your face. He barely breathes, just puffs of hot breath against your cooled skin that hardly make a sound. The fingers on your jaw twitch, squeezing your cheeks until your lips pout, his mouth moving to press directly into your ear.

“I'd say you're looking for trouble, sweet girl.”

You can feel him press against you, hard and rubbing your lower back as his hips rock into yours.

“You ever get enough, old man?”

You can’t help but grin, smiling at the cave ceiling with your head resting on Mando’s shoulder. He only stops for a second, growling into your skin as he nips the tender flesh between his teeth.

“I’d watch that mouth if I were you.”

He was dead serious, every syllable rumbling deep in his chest as he mouthed them into your ear; his arm tightening around you and his hand drifting to lock on your throat.

“Or what?”

The words nearly came out as a squeak, your voice barely passing through the hold Mando had on your neck, his fingers flexing ever-so-slightly just so he could watch your squirm.

“You really are looking for trouble.”

Mando leads you to walk forward, guiding you down on all fours by your shoulder as soon as the water gets shallow enough. The sand and rocks dig at your knees, poking your palms until it hurts to hold up your weight and you shift it from hand to hand. 

You can feel Mando kneel behind you, pushing in between your shoulder blades until you're face down, your ass hanging in the air as he pushes your legs further apart, your back arching out of reflex. The sand sticks to your wet cheek, your arms stretching above you and pressing against the damp ground.

He just sits behind you for a moment, leaning back to look at you spread and open for him so easily. He curses under his breath, smacking his hand against your ass as he gropes it. You can tell Mando leans closer, his face just a few inches from your cunt when you feel the cool wet of his spit drip down your lips. You moan a little as it slides over your clit, gathering until it's heavy enough to drip off your mound and into the water. He spits on you again, this time from farther away and you feel it smack just above the pucker of your ass before he rubs it in with his thumb.

You feel yourself clench as he teases your entrance, rubbing the wet on his thumb over the muscle until you're practically shaking, begging him to do something.

You feel his mouth press against your ass and you nearly faint. He drags his tongue in the same small circles, barely prodding you as you grind your hips into his face. While he laps at your ass, one of his hands comes up to tease your cunt, two of his fingers dragging through your slick before he pushes them deep inside of you.

You squirm as he curls his fingers in just the perfect way, moving in time with his tongue to hit almost every nerve he could find. Your face is buried into the crook of your elbow, moaning his name into your skin with each tremor of release as it hits you. Slow and burning you up from the inside out while you gush around his fingers. He replaced his fingers with his mouth, lapping at your cunt and groaning at the taste of you while he licks you clean.

You're floating by the time he's done with you, tingling with bliss that reached to the tips of your toes.

You get grounded real quick when he starts pushing his cock inside of you.

Even with how ready you were it stings, a numbing, dull pain that fades once he starts pumping in and out of your pussy. The stretch is delicious and the drag of his cock shoots sparks up and down your spine. He keeps you pinned with a hand on your back, pressing you down by your shoulder blades while his other hand keeps you spread open.

He gropes your ass, watching it jiggle as you push your hips back to meet his. His face is set in a scowl, groaning out curses behind the snarl of his teeth when he sees your lips stretched around him. You can barely find time to breathe, taking in gulps of air when he stills just for a moment, grinding his cock into you as far as he can push it. The hand he was using to grope you shifts, his finger pressing into your ass again, but with a little more force.

He gets one knuckle deep and you feel like screaming, your hand covering your eyes because you're afraid you might open them. You beg him to keep fucking you, cooing when he starts slowly thrusting the finger in your ass until your legs are shaking.

You're almost broken, teetering on the edge of oblivion until your lungs ache from the lack of oxygen. His finger slips from your ass and he grabs your arm with bruising force, twisting it behind your back and using it as leverage to fuck you harder.

“You keep those pretty eyes closed, sweet girl.”

He’s leaning over you, close enough he can growl the words with a bite to your shoulder.

“You do exactly as you're told.”

You can hear your whimpers in the echo, they bounce around the walls of the cave, followed by the smacking sound of your bodies and the splashing water at your legs and feet.

You finally snap with the brush of his fingers on your clit, swollen and throbbing from neglect as he captures it between two fingers, rocking back and forth as you gush around his cock. Your cum makes a mess in-between your two bodies, soaking his groin and dripping down to the water below. Mando groans deep in his chest, praising you for being so filthy with a final thrust of his hips. He buries his cock inside of you, throbbing as he empties himself in your walls.

You moan when he slips out of you, your cunt swollen and fluttering around nothing as he guided you to turn on your back. He wastes no time and hikes your leg up to rest on his shoulder, pushing his weight into you as he slides back into your creamy pussy.

The shock takes you a minute, your body sensitive but filled to the brim with him as your hands dig at the dirt underneath you.

“Did you think I was done with you?”

He swallows your moan in a kiss, slanting your lips together as he drinks in every last ounce of you. His pace is softer, taking his time to savor everything that had been so rushed.

He trails kisses all over your face and neck, trailing down to your chest where he plays with your tender breasts; pushing them together so he can kiss and mark up every inch.

Your fingers are buried in his hair, twisting his curls into your fists as you anchor yourself to him, his cock dragging along your swollen walls enough to send you reeling.

Your eyes stay glued shut, keeping your promise to him even when you want to squirm because it's too much. He pounds into you, reaching every inch of you just like before but with something else there; something that reaches deep in your chest and squeezes a vice over your bleeding heart.

He watches you.

He memorizes every detail: the sounds you make, the way your hair falls around you, the beautiful glow of your skin in the blue light.

He knows your eyes are beautiful.

He’s never seen them bare, never without the filter of his helmet but he knows. They have to match the rest of you. At this moment, he could have begged you to open them, to let him see how gorgeous they look when you’re spread out beneath him.

But he doesn't.

He kisses you again, holding you by the back of your neck and sucking the air from your lungs. He's moaning into the kiss, his hips stuttering as he pumps you full again, resting his weight on top of you while you both caught your breath.

He reaches above you for a moment, slipping his cock out of you, and stretching your back and legs until you're nearly bent in half; the air huffing out of your lungs as he grabbed whatever he needed.

You can hear the air seal around his helmet, his breath suddenly filtered as he taps your cheek signaling you to open your eyes.

“You’re filthy.”

Mando brushes away some of the dirt sticking to your belly, his hands leave smudges despite his best efforts, fingers caked in dirt and sand from how he supported himself above you. You take a glance at your hands, dirty and tacky from the feeling of grain sticking to your skin. You can feel it rub awkwardly against your back, a million little pricks dancing across your skin as you squirm underneath him. From a glance you can see your knees and feet look just as bad, the feeling of sand between your toes instantly souring the after-glow.

“You should look in the mirror.”

Mando wasn’t as bad, but you could definitely see the mud peppering his chest and tummy, mainly from how he still held one of your legs on his shoulder. He looks down for a moment and curses under his breath, setting your leg aside so he could stand.

Your back was aching for you to do the same, but the pins and needles shooting up your legs asked otherwise. Laying flat on your back, you closed your eyes, suddenly tired again and focusing on the warm tide of water tickling your thighs.

You can hear Mando shuffling around, and against your better judgment pry your eye open to look in his direction. He was kneeling, picking up pieces of his clothing and separating them from yours. He dusted off his pants, shaking a fresh layer of sand that fell in a symphony of taps against solid rock.

“Get cleaned up, enjoy it for a bit,” he says over his shoulder, turning his back to you as he put on the bottom layers of his suit.

“I’m gonna take a look around.”

-

(Skip if you don’t wanna read about assault/injury)

You had nearly fallen asleep from how quiet the ship was.

After a shower and a change of clothes, you tucked yourself into the warmest sweater you owned and nearly fell asleep sitting in the cockpit.

The diagnostics were flickering in front of you, New Republic info filtering across the screen to tell you everything you needed to know about the planet.

Mando had just a few things that he wanted to ‘finish up’ before you headed back to Nevarro with his latest load of bounties. As tempting as a trip to the local town sounded, walking any distance in snowfall was off-putting. It was just flurries, tiny and starting to stick to the cold ground beneath your feet as you made your way to the Razor Crest, kissing your skin in white specs that faded as quickly as they formed.

You had made it to the shelter of the Crest before the worst of it, but it was hard to see the path behind you now, the footprints left in the trail of Mando’s exit had disappeared. You worried about how Mando could get lost if he stayed out any later, the snow starting to pour heavily from a grey sky into blankets on the ground.

He had given you a comm for when you were separated and even reminded you of it as he made his way to town.

This was an emergency, right?

You just wanted to know he was okay, maybe even persuade him to come back sooner, if that’s at all possible. Whatever he went to get couldn’t be that important, not so that he couldn’t talk for just a second.

“Mando?”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just…” You looked out the frosted windows in the cockpit, the snow falling in pinpricks that echoed in the tiny room. “Snow.”

“I noticed.” 

He huffs the words between takes of breath; for a moment you can hear the sound of his boots in the snow, dull and crunching the ground beneath him. You go to say something, your mouth opening and closing briefly before he beats you to it.

“Start the engines for takeoff, I’ll be back before you know it.”

You almost didn’t notice, even in the quiet, over the soft sound of his voice filtering through the comm; you weren’t even sure you had heard it. Maybe you were imagining things, your nerves creating something to give cause to the way your chest was seizing up.

It was like a tiny thump and a scraping, metallic sound; just enough to peak your attention through the smothering silence of an empty ship. It stopped abruptly, almost like someone was trying the barriers from the outside of the ship, just testing the waters of what they could get away with.

You turn to look out of the entrance to the cockpit, swiveling in the pilot’s seat until you face it head-on.

“Mando, I-I think…”

There it is again, sharper and louder this time with confidence that had you gripping the comm in your hand tighter and tighter until the steel of the tiny contraption dug marks into your skin; angry red lines that were tender and throbbed when you finally released it from your palm.

Mando calls out your name but it’s lost, your focus solely on the sound of foreign footfall up the ship’s ramp.

“Say something!” He sounds angry, desperate, his voice tiny and coming from comm that clinked as it bounces around on the grated floor. It stops in between your feet, the red light blinking to signal it was on and the ‘talk’ button locked into position.

Something is telling you to run, to hide, to do what you can to make sure you live to see the next day. It was familiar, the instinct, the adrenaline; something you had felt in small comparison every time Mando put a blaster in your hand and told you to shoot.

You had gotten better, you stopped missing the targets; hell you had even hit a couple of bullseyes. A small victory compared to the skills of your pseudo-teacher, but a victory nonetheless. One that had you preening and your face burning hot when he told you what a good job you did, squeezing your elbow or brushing hair away from your face. You can practically hear him walking you through it. 

Load. Brace. Aim. Fire.

Mando had become the voice in your head. And he was screaming for you to run.

Figuratively or literally, though you’re not sure which. You’d forgotten your call with him, the comm sitting where you left it on the floor of the cockpit and your body moving before you registered any of it, before any panic could really set in.

There was no one in the belly of the ship at first, the only evidence anything had changed being the side ramp that had been wedged open; the cold air filtering in with sharp gusts of wind followed by wisps of snow.

It was just your footsteps in the quiet of the hull, calm and familiar to the point you were afraid you imagined it. Even with the evidence of a broken ramp sitting like a sore against the dark coloring of the cargo bay, you wondered if you had just panicked. Maybe you were just too worried, Mando would be back soon.

Just wait until he gets back.

Then there was the cocking of a gun, sharp and synthesized as you turned to face an intruder. 

His smile was nasty, crooked, and vile to the point your stomach dropped as it curled on his face. His clothes were dirty, torn, and nearly threadbare including the sack he had strapped across his back. He huffed every breath, his cheeks tinted pink from walking for so long in cold weather.

He never said what he wanted, just looked around the ship, keeping his gun pointed at you but with half-assed effort. This stranger obviously wasn’t the friendly type, but he wasn’t like Mando either; the longer he stayed the more his threat felt like an annoyance rather than a danger.

He stepped closer, holding the blaster directly in front of your face and asking if you were the pilot of this ship. You didn’t answer, watching as the stranger’s brows furrowed and with a snarl, he repeated the words louder, the sound echoing dully through the ship. You shook your head and he lowered his blaster with a huff, still trained on you but now held in a limp grip between the two of you.

-“Someone pulls a gun on you,” The barrel of Mando’s blaster was trained on you, the bright orange switch of the safety offset on dark durasteel. “How are you going to get out of it?”-

You took a step forward, setting your feet in an open stance and using your weight to push the gun to the side, out of the range of hitting you.

-“They’re not going to expect it.” He placed your hand over his gun, curling your fingers around the barrel as he brought your other hand up to press firmly on the back of his wrist. “Use that to your advantage.”-

He shouts as you rip it from his grip, the joints in his hands bending back too far from the force; his stance faltering a little as he took a few steps back. When he looks at you again, it's from behind the mouth of his own gun; and even with your unsure fingers, his face drops at the sight of you.

-“Now you’ve got their gun, what are you gonna do?”-

You see it flash across his face. 

Brief regret? Sadness? Anger? All the above.

It only takes him a second to realize, his eye flickering to where your finger hovered. Finally, with blood roaring against your ears and your hands shaking around the durasteel of his blaster, there was a haze of smoke with a flash of light as he fell to the grated floors of the Crest; your finger still pressed firmly against the trigger.

-“You use it on them.”-

A/n pt2: Yes, Mando does eat the booty like groceries.


End file.
